Twice a Week
by clemonlime
Summary: In the fall of 2005, a new instructor joined the club at Cimarron-Memorial High, only 24 years old with three PhDs and a history at the school. The education board couldn't say no; why not have a teacher that can relate to the students?


The dark recesses of high school were always a living hell for everyone. From the harsh due dates to the questionable teachers and definitely the worrying quality of the administration, every man, woman, and child were always expecting the world to crash down around their ears. In the fall of 2005, a new instructor joined the club at Cimarron-Memorial High, only 24 years old with three PhDs and a history at the school. The education board couldn't say no; why not have a teacher that can relate to the students?

Of course, as time went on, it became clear that he wasn't necessarily easy to relate to. He was oblivious to low-blow jokes that the student athletes would mumble in his class, and even more oblivious toward the looks his female and effeminate students (regardless of their gender, sexuality, or creed) couldn't help but throw his way. The teachers couldn't even reach him, always attempting acquaintanceships to be met with strange looks from the young doctor. He didn't even drink.

Everyone gave up on him but Morgan. He'd been there for the least time of all the teachers, and regardless, he could tell that the kid wasn't trying to make friendships. He genuinely enjoyed teaching, especially history, something that none of the others could have understood. Their classrooms were joined together by a door, which gave him some leeway when it came to planning a way to get into his routine.

After a few weeks of minor-set stalking with the help of the computer lab teacher across the hall, he had a layout of the guy's week. He hardly ever brought his lunch except for Tuesdays and Thursdays, when he often assigned essays to his students to make sure they weren't just dozing off in his class. The next Tuesday after his own class, he waited until the sound of rowdy kids died down in the neighboring room before pushing the door open.

"How has your first month been?" Morgan leaned on the scrawny man's desk as the doctor flipped through high school essay after high school essay, throwing a few red dashes here and there as errors came up.

"Full of half-assed attempts at explaining benefits of westernization," he held up a paper, "Harris just wrote the word food over and over."

"He isn't wrong?" Morgan set his coffee cup on the coaster that was conveniently placed on the desk. "That was a benefit of westernization."

"You're thinking of trade," the frustrated history teacher deadpanned, writing a aggressive F on the top of the paper before shoving it to the side, "Besides, you think I'd give credit for this? Even a little bit?"

Morgan shrugged, "He took the time to write it out. Must have been confident in his answer."

"Or hungry..." He shook his head and laughed to himself. Morgan caught a glance of his smile before he ducked his head down to grab his lunchbox from under the desk.

"That might have been it." The conversation began to dwindle, and Morgan reluctantly began to push off the desk. "Well, you seem busy enough."

"Actually...?" He gestured to the papers, "I could use some company. As much as I love to read, this is a bit maddening. If you don't mind, anyway. That may have been an excuse to get away. None of the teachers here like to stay around long."

"Well," Morgan grabbed one of the chairs by the desks and pulled it over to sit across from Reid. "I don't believe you were very conversational with them, if what I heard was right."

"Ah, rumors already?" Reid chuckled, but it wasn't angry or full of contempt. "But, uh, no. I didn't really like talking to them. They acted like I was a child. Which, I mean, I can't blame them, but it gets patronizing. I only really pull out the statistics when I know there's nowhere else to go with it. Once the whole _how old are you, where'd you come from, when'd you take up teaching, is your_ mom _a teacher_ thing starts, I'm not interested."

Morgan nodded, "They were like that when I came here first. I wasn't as young, mind you, but I had to gain their respect over time."

"How'd you do that?" He looked interested, folded his hands lazily and leaned forward, "With your push up skills?"

"Oh, he's a funny guy?" Morgan smiled, "You're loosening up. Those shoulders, look at em."

Reid smiled, wide and proud, teeth gleaming as exaggeratedly shook himself loose. Morgan was blown away. He'd never necessarily seen a guy as beautiful, but there was always a first time for everything. Even so, the young doctor carried himself in such a way to show that he was extremely insecure. But for what reason?

"I bet they love your class," Reid looked back down to his work, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. "I can't get even the quiet kids to stop looking like they're going to combust listening to me speak. Yet, somehow, after the worst day of my life, you manage to get me to talk for more than a minute, and I want to."

"Actually, I make em do push ups if they backtalk me," Morgan laughed and pointed to Reid's dunce chair. "You put them in the corner."

"Don't forget the scarf of shame," the brunette grabbed another essay. "That's the finishing touch."

After a few months of Tuesday and Thursday visits, lifting Reid's spirits after long days of being underestimated and disrespected, Morgan finally got the guts to ask the doctor-teacher on a date. He knew that Reid wouldn't understand his intentions, and he was banking on that for his plan to work.

The date was going fine, at first. They sat down at the only pizza place that was open after ten at night, the restaurant practically empty but for the employees and a few late night customers at the bar. Reid was listening intently, almost unsure when his turn was to speak, but then Morgan would open the conversation outward and Reid would smile, wide, and start talking with compassion about whatever had been running around through his mind before opening his mouth. It was interesting. Morgan couldn't even think about who had taught him to keep his mouth closed when other people were talking.

At one point, Reid was talking very animatedly about his experiences at the high school when he was just in his early teens. Terrible, terrible things about goal posts and locker raids, but Reid talked about it with all the sorrow of a toddler with a lollipop. Morgan frowned, and Reid took note of it quickly, "Hey... what's that face for?"

"Why do you work there, then?" Morgan sighed out, "Some of the teachers that work there now are the same ones that didn't do anything back then. So how can you work beside them?"

Reid just smiled, "Because I know something they don't. I'm a better teacher than them because I know their methods and how that work and how that don't work on kids in their teens."

"Okay, wow." Morgan leaned back in awe before leaning back in again. "I'm sorry if this is about to ruin your night, but I am amazed. By you."

"Thank you, Derek," his face flushed shyly.

"No, but seriously," Morgan shook his head, trying to reconstruct what little amount of confidence and togetherness he had. "You have no idea why I asked you out to pizza, do you?"

"For... pizza," Reid picked up his slice and waved it in front of his face. "Right?"

"Well, yes, but... oh, hell." Morgan leaned over the table, grasping the tie around Reid's neck and dragging him to meet their mouths in the little. A less-than-perfect first kiss with a man for Morgan, an overwhelming first kiss ever for Reid. It lasted for a moment, but as soon as the kiss broke, Reid was out of his seat and out of the door.

In the morning, Morgan didn't visit Reid during lunch hour. He didn't have to. Reid sauntered into the English classroom with his lunchbox, smelling of pizza. Morgan asked him why he wanted any more Italian food after having it about 12 hours earlier.

"Well, I thought about it," Reid leaned on the inside of Morgan's desk, handing him the box. "And if pizza makes you react to me the way you did last night, I thought I'd take a chance."


End file.
